


All Those Eyes (But You Can't See)

by undercovercryptid



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bonding, Eldritch, Eldritch Bill Cipher, Lots of eyes, M/M, Magic Dipper Pines, Watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercovercryptid/pseuds/undercovercryptid
Summary: Every breath you takeEvery move you makeI'll be watching youAfter Dipper exorcises Bill, the demon is trapped in an unknown dimension, with nothing to do but watch as his Pine Tree lives and grows...
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	All Those Eyes (But You Can't See)

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm writing a little billdip to get my mind calibrated for my dissertation. I haven't been here in a while but it's good to be back and I hope there's still a fandom for these boys.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

It started with the one eye, 

blinking open and into focus over the course of a month. 

Perception was a fragment-

Brown Hair Brown Hair Brown Hair Brown Hair-

He managed to make out a mahogany curl, a scarred and boney kneecap, a flash of delectable pain. Blood thrummed, hearts beat, little boys screamed in the night.

Bill was home.

The second and third eyes opened together, vision was triangulated-

The rule of three is the rule for me!

The rule of three is the rule for me!

The rule of three is the rule for me!

-and the picture was pieced together. Unlaced canvas shoes, overstuffed khaki pockets, a muddy old hat. Books that smelled of cigarettes and rain, sulfur and melted rainbow sprinkles.

Boys that smelled like Pine Trees.

Time moved so strangely, confined to the third dimension. Everything seemed to progress in a straight line, one day flowing seamlessly into the next and explaining the human thought light and time had _anything_ to do with lines. 

Every day that extended forwards seemed to bring with it a new inch of height, a new curl of hair. Humans aged so quickly, so visibly, so fascinatingly....

There was a fourteenth birthday, then a fifteenth. Space didn’t move so much as they moved through it, Oregon and Piedmont and Pasadena. Bill tried to escape, tried to unattach himself from the glowing cool of Dipper’s soul, but with every push he was pulled right back, like a yo-yo on a string. What Dipper saw, Bill saw; where Dipper went, Bill went. There was the Mystery Shack, the Movies, the Mall, the _High_ _School_.

And Bill had thought Hell was bad. 

Skinny legs filled out, dark hair grew long and was cut short. A jawline became firm, a rounded nose was grown into. Honey eyes that had always shone bright as amber with curiosity now turned sharp and mistrustful. They churned with intelligence, with interest, with paranoia, with _fear_.

It was _breathtaking_.

Dozens of eyes were open now - more than Bill had ever possessed before. He saw time for what it was: an instantaneous explosion of infinite possibilities, bursting with life and death and tragedy and something… new. He was not in the mindscape - he was surrounded by colour - and the sounds that Bill could perceive were both amplified and distorted, as though filtered through stagnant water.

The sun beat hot on the tarmac as Dipper helped his sister into the bus, ready for their yearly return to Gravity Falls. For two years, Bill had been tethered to Dipper Pines - _tethered_ , like a ruinious sailboat - and mere weeks before from the twins’ sixteenth birthday, it occurred to Bill to wonder _why_. 

Why was he tied to Dipper?

Why was he the only one that knew about the bond?

Why couldn’t he look away?

Sixteen came and went, a year passing in a flurry that would have gone unnoticed had a large silver banner over the Pines family’s front door not heralded the arrival of seventeen. 

Hundreds of eyes were open now, calculating, narrowed in on the only object of their interest, their desire, their existence. The night before seventeen seemed to mean something to Dipper - he had been preparing himself for this ceremony for weeks. 

In the graveyard, flesh was cut, burned, scarred, and tattooed - skin was peeled and ripped and touched and pierced. Lips were licked, sucked, bitten, and bruised. A boy was pulled head-first into the black hole of adulthood and a young man emerged. 

Bill was enthralled.

The morning of the eighteenth year, Dipper was not alone. He sat up in bed, the clean grey sheets slipping down his chiselled torso. There was a pinkish slash beneath his left nipple from a fight with a werewolf two years ago, a dappling of white pinpricks on his right forearm from a mild stabbing with a silver fork. His forearm was desiccated with the aftermath of a hundred blood rituals, each outpouring of delectable fluid immortalised as a faint white line. 

More recently, a budding purpling bruise adorned the base of Dipper’s throat, accompanied by a hearty smudge of greasy red lipstick.

Dipper groaned, scrubbing a hand through the messy curls spilling over his forehead (still hiding his mark) and rolled out of bed, his posture rigid. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, his sleep plagued with nightmares that had nothing to do with Bill. He seemed to sleep well, these days, only with a woman’s company. The girl of the evening, who had pulled at Dipper’s hair and wrapped her legs around his waist and sunk her teeth into his ears, still slept, her red hair fanned out over her pillow like a lick of liquid flame.

Bill would love to watch her burn.

Dipper yawned and padded across the room, arms stretching over his head as he shifted his hips from left to right. He had been unashamed of his nudity for some time now, his naked body dipping and swelling in all the right places. From what Bill could glean from the whispers of his peers, Dipper was an attractive young man - mysterious and quiet, the apple of his classmate’s eyes - and the ropey musculature defining his forearms and calves, his stomach and his shoulders, was wildly attractive.

Before the girl could wake, Dipper traced fresh runes into the wood of his windowsill, into the back of his door, into the headboard of his bed. He salted the ground, lit a bundle of sage, secured the silks covering the mirrors. A saucer of milk and a coin had been left on the windowsill overnight, and the gifts for the fey were replenished methodically. Sharp crystals and shards of iron and bundles of garlic were tucked behind heavy velvet curtains, and a dozen horseshoes were secured over the windows, the door, the wardrobe, the desk, and the bed. Dipper was paranoid, unhinged, nearly feral... 

He was _perfect_.

He pulled on a pair of boxer shorts, then had them promptly ripped off when the woman in his bed opened her eyes and traced with her (two, puny) eyes the lines of bone disappearing under his waistband. They fucked, repeatedly, and the girl escaped through Dipper’s bedroom window only when, an hour later, Shooting Star came knocking at Dipper’s door to ready him for school.

If the older twin, still glowing with youthful exuberance and optimism, noticed that Dipper reeked of sex and was slightly flustered, with fresh bruises blossoming over the sharp lines of his collarbones where they peeked out from under his shirt, she didn’t say.

Bill watched Dipper shower, watched him eye the groves of trees outside the school with unrestrained suspicion, watched him ignore his teachers in favour of studying his seventh journal, filled to the brim with more information than Ford had imagination to consider.

There were two weeks left of school - two weeks until Dipper would graduate and leave Piedmont, California and never think to return. For eight months of the year, Dipper yearned for Gravity Falls, and in two weeks, he would be home. 

Dipper was as much a part of the landscape as the rickety old water tower, as the UFO crash site, as the looming and sourceless waterfall. When he arrived, he seemed to stand straighter, to shine from the inside. He absorbed the magic of the town with every breath, and as Bill watched, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before that power coalesced into something... remarkable.

He was already so close to the cusp, meddling every day with forces darker than Bill had ever thought him capable of withstanding. He was meddling with things that could be understood, not from the perspective of the third dimension, and all Bill had to do was wait for Dipper to make one mistake - one flawed decision - and the gap between Dipper’s dimension and the one in which Bill was trapped would be void. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 'Major to Minor' version of 'Every Breath You Take' by Chase Holfelder because clearly 2014 nostalgia is a theme this week


End file.
